Only after they had finally made it through the statue room did the Dark Elves and their party

  safely advance into the heart of the Temple of the Severed Limbs.

  All along the way, all the people looked very careful, for fear that there would be any traps or

  monsters from the two walls, and the massacre just outside left a deep impression on all of

  them. Fortunately, this threat never appeared again, and they entered the living quarters of

  the temple without any trouble.

  Paths radiate from the central passageway, leading from room to room. Mother Batana

  directed her men and had them spread out, searching room by room to prevent anything

  from being left behind. While Vincent watches the dark elf's actions, for the mother this time

  to "destroy" the place has become suspicious, in the eyes of the mage, the dark elf this task

  is more like a search, looking for something.

  The rooms of the living area are the same, the simple furnishings have long been eroded into

  decay in the years, only the debris left on the ground and the mottled walls can explain the

  past arrangement of this room, only they are silently recording the rise and fall of the entire

  temple.

  After receiving the reward from her men, Matron Batana showed no special signs, as if she

  had already known that the object she was looking for was not here. The mother orders some

  of the mercenaries to stay here and not let anything leave. She herself carried on with the rest

  of her elite troops, the core of the family's fighting force.

  Vincent could not restrain his curiosity, and naturally wanted to continue to follow the team

  of dark elves to see what secrets this temple could hide.

  After passing the living quarters, the passageway in front of him finally ended in a huge

  rotunda. For a moment Vincent felt as if he had returned to the Golden Hall of Dwarf City,

  both of which were equally magnificent. Although there was no light shining down here, in

  Vincent's eyes, it was the same as if it had been daylight all the time. Everything was clearly

  visible. The most eye-catching thing in the whole hall is the huge statue on the opposite side

  of the passage. A humanoid statue with one hand, one foot, one eye and one ear stands there.

  His broken leg is supported by a thick metal column. Vincent looked closely and realized that

  it should be made of pure gold, the same material as his arm, and its value is absolutely

  inestimable. His severed arm -- his left arm -- was empty and empty; And in his empty eye

  socket lay a crystal diamond. But without fluoroscopic vision, it is impossible to see the

  diamond directly.

  The huge statue stood twenty metres high from its base to the top of his head, and his only

  remaining hand reached up to the top of the hall, supporting the dome. There is a huge fresco

  painted on the top, which has lost its color with age, and Vincent can only vaguely recognize

  that it is about a man flying into the endless light, with countless people Shouting at his feet,

  reverently and excitedly. One thing Vincent noticed in particular was that the man flying into

  the light was wearing a prosthetic on his left hand, and it looked exactly like Vincent's pure

  gold arm.

  Just as Vincent was focusing his eyes on the mural, a woman's voice was heard in front of him.

  She knelt before the mother in a very respectful and humble tone and said, "Dear Mother,

  according to the agreement you made with us, these treasures should belong to the

  mercenary corps."

  The treasures? Where's the treasure? Vincent looked around and found nothing that could

  be called treasure. Could it be that these people are hallucinating? He stopped his eyes, and

  sure enough, in the middle of the hall, six large chests appeared out of thin air, slowly

  containing all kinds of treasures. Gold coins and precious stones seemed to shine in the dark,

  exquisite necklaces and crowns and other items were placed on the ground as if they were

  free garbage, and several swords still looked sharp but slept quietly in the corners of the

  chests.

  Indeed, they were very attractive things, but they were just illusions. Vincent looked at the

  human woman half kneeling in front of her mother and felt both admiration and pity. In the

  most underground mercenary organizations, especially in a place like Dark Elf City, choosing

  a female leader would have a better relationship with the dark elves than a male leader. But

  even so, a mercenary leader would not dare to go to her mother and ask for a reward.

  Negotiating terms was always something that was reserved for dark elves. As for any other

  race, the Drow was always in a superior position. It was not ungallant of the woman to ask

  her mother for a trophy of the treasure before her.

  But on the other hand, she looked foolish. Even if she did not have the power of discerning

  eyes like the sorcerer, would she not have used her mind and opened her eyes to look at the

  so-called treasure? How could the gold coins and swords look as if they were freshly minted

  in a place where the statues and frescoes had been reduced to ashes over countless years?

  Although the treasures seemed to be covered with a layer of dust, it was of a different

  thickness than the dust that would have accumulated over millennia. How could one survive

  in the world of the Underdark without noticing these things?

  Vincent looked at Matron Batana and nodded his head as he agreed to the mercenaries'

  proposal. His heart sank. Mother must have seen through the trick in this hall, otherwise how

  could the character of a dark elf allow others to take so many things in front of him? But the

  foolish woman had not noticed anything was amiss, and beckoned her trolls and ogres to the

  pile of treasure.

  'Stop! Vincent stepped out. He knew it was silly and dangerous. But he couldn't let those guys

  die. Even if they were just goblins and trolls, they were what the inhabitants of the surface

  world called villains, village destroyers. But at least they did no evil in the presence of Vincent,

  and in the city of Prudence the mage heard no evil of them. Here in the underworld they were

  only poor wretches, slaves, or wretches who fought with their own blood in order to survive.

  'None of that treasure exists!

  "The mercenary ogres roared with laughter, laughing at the male human. To them, any

  creature that could not carry a giant sword or a sharp axe, or whose skin was not black, was

  merely reptile, as feeble and pitiful as a small ant on the ground. Their special "pride" had

  been suppressed in the presence of the dark elves for too long, and now that there was a

  human, they naturally showed off their tall image to their heart's content and laughed at the

  "skinny" creature. Those treasures are clearly in front of them, as long as you can reach out

  your hand to make money, how can they not exist?

  "Advisor Master, if they want the treasure, why do you want to take it from them?" Mother

  Batana said quietly, "Have you not been rewarded enough by our family? What more do you

  want?"

  Vincent felt the majesty that emanated from the mother, without the power of words, without

  the effect of magic, without the brandissement of weapons, with the force of a battle-tested

  general, and behind the dark fairy mother was the mighty Drow house, the mighty city of

  Prudence, the mighty spider goddess. She had the power to despise everything that came

  before him, a power that had been born and had been honed.

  Vincent was not afraid of this power, and when he opened his mouth to speak, a cold little

  hand was pressed on his shoulder. Shelley was at the Master's side, watching her, shaking her

  head gently and pulling him back with her hands.

  Vincent closed his mouth. He said no more. At this moment his mind became strangely calm.

  Recalling what he had just done, he found a weakness in himself: anger. In the face of great

  power, he had just lost his normal heart, and the behavior of trying to contradict his mother

  could only show his recklessness, and in fact could not bring any good. A mage who has no

  mind, who cannot keep his composure forever, will not achieve anything great.

  The trolls were still laughing loudly, mimicking the tone of the mage in their giant language:

  "Those things don't exist!" Then they burst into laughter. They run with their respective leather

  bags howling toward the pile of phantoms. Only this time the human woman sensed

  something and did not follow.

  From the statue's empty eye socket, several green beams of light suddenly shoot out,

  accurately hitting the running mercenaries before anyone can react. The trolls and ogres

  suddenly stop their advance and freeze in the path, as if an invisible wall of gas had suddenly

  appeared before them and stopped them all. As the dark elves watched, the mercenaries

  slowly turned to stone. Their flesh was no longer soft but powerful living tissue, but hard and

  lifeless. There they stood, in the same position as they had in the moment of their death.

  The female captain of the mercenary regiment, utterly alone, clenched her lower lip and

  watched, without a word, the consequences of greed and arrogance. From the enormous

  statue came again a green ray of light, smashing those who had just been turned into stone,

  into rubble, and changed again Became dust and completely dissipated with the faint movement of air in the hall.

  With a sneer on her face, Batana turned back to Vincent and said, "Counselor, you solve the

  petrified trap. It stands in the way of the First Family." She saw Shelley's hand on Vincent's

  shoulder -- and Vincent quickly pulled it away. The mother said, "I will use the magic to

  protect you from petrified stone. All true believers will be protected by the spider Goddess."

  'Yes, Madam,' said the Mother. Vincent thought to himself that he was not a dark elf at all,

  and that the protection of the spider goddess was an empty promise! It seemed that there

  must be something wrong with the protection petrified by the Mother, and it would be

  strange if it could really be protected! But he could distinctly feel the protective petrified

  amulet hanging from his chest. It had been built to keep the petrified lizards at arm's length,

  but now it could be used.

  He waited for his mistress to finish her spell, and ignoring Shelley's dissuasive glance, he

  headed for the treasure. The statue seemed to feel threatened by the human in front of it,

  and did not wait for the mage to reach his intended spot before attacking. The green ray cut

  through the darkness of the hall, leaving a marked trail in the eyes of all, and struck the mage's

  forehead. All were under the illusion that the ray had acquired a quality of its own, and had

  become a spear, piercing its enemy.

  Vincent's body swayed, unconcerned, and walked on.

  The statue began its frenzied attack. Green rays now shot out of that eye socket like festive

  fireworks, and rained down on the Wizard like raindrops. Vincent, swaying gently in the storm,

  took all the attacks without mercy. The petrified light was like a cavalrymen rushing forward,

  bumping into a firm squadron of spearmen; Or like the waves of the sea, which, with their

  majestic momentum, smashed themselves against the solid bank.

  "The power of magic, the power of origin." Vincent raised his staff;

  'Magic power, rule power.' His left hand is hidden up his sleeve, tightly gripping a magic scroll

  made in the past under the rules of the Magic Network.

  In front of him, the two forces clashed fiercely, influencing each other like twins, growing in

  constant struggle against each other. The whole hall trembled before this wild and violent

  force, and even the green ray ceased its attack, as if it were disarming and bowing its head in

  defeat.

  The great force was flung forth with a sudden blast at the statue, and with a great roar the

  upper part of the statue was dismembered and reduced to useless stone.

  The incessant sound reverberated through the hall, repeated in the enclosed space, making

  everyone's ears ache. But Vincent's voice, as if unaffected, came directly into their heads, clear,

  humble but with irresistible force.

  "Dear Mother, I have done what you asked. Where do I go next?"